


Light(er) The Way

by Ranger_Online



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Boarding School, Cigarettes, Crack, Drabble, High School, I Blame Tumblr, I REGRET NOTHING, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Not Beta Read, Pining, Pining John, Schoolboys, Short One Shot, Tags Are Hard, Teenlock, Unbeta'd, Underage Smoking, fetus!john, fetus!sherlock, first time tagger if you cant tell, johns inner monologue is basically crack, okay I regret some things, prefect!Mycroft, really really short but idgaf, so many harry potter aus in mind omg, the one where mycroft is a pompous asshole, you can totally bet i got this idea from harry potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranger_Online/pseuds/Ranger_Online
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sherlock and John met in a boarding school?<br/>Without the politics of adulthood, and with the feeling of being young, anything could happen.</p><p>(Also, prefect!Mycroft, everyone!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light(er) The Way

“You know, Sherlock,” John Watson grinned as his companion flicked the ash from the smouldering butt of his cigarette, “I hear those things will kill you.”

Sherlock Holmes gave an indignant snort and took a deep draw from his cigarette. Said cigarette dangling from his mouth, he looked over at his friend with a half-smirk on his face. John almost choked on his breath in response. “Please, John,” Sherlock scoffed. He blew smoke out in rings from between his lips, his eyes half-dazed but sparkling at him like they always did. “Cigarettes won’t be the death of me.”

“You are right, for once, Sherlock. They won’t be the death of you, but I might be.”

John jumped at the voice from behind them, but Sherlock merely snorted again, taking one last drag and flicking the cigarette away. “Will you then, brother mine?” he quipped, the last of the smoke drifting serenely from between his Cupid’s bow lips. John, recovered from his initial shock, nodded a sheepish greeting to the boy who’d snuck up on them and pretended he hadn't been staring at Sherlock's lips.

Grinning an unpleasant grin that never reached his eyes, fingers running along his gleaming prefect badge, was Mycroft Holmes. His eyes, more beady than his brother’s, were narrowed with heightened distaste at the squashed cigarette butt where Sherlock had discarded it.

“Did Mummy send you to spy on me again?” Sherlock queried briskly. He still hadn’t turned to look at his brother, his back to Mycroft but still hovering close enough to John that he didn't feel the cold. “Or do you simply enjoy stalking myself and John?”

John pointedly cleared his throat. Sherlock would often try to pick fights with his elder brother, but John didn’t very much fancy witnessing another Holmes brother row.

Mycroft’s narrowed eyes trained themselves on to John’s carefully neutral face. The prefect was silent for a moment.

“No, in fact, dear little brother, neither is the case,” Mycroft drawled, pretending to ‘absently’ toy with his prefects badge (John rolled his eyes). “No, although if you don’t agree to help me with something of great importance, Mummy might accidentally find your secret stash.”

At the threat to his precious cigarettes, Sherlock whipped around to glare at Mycroft. He stared at him for a moment too long for John’s liking, unblinking. “And how would you, of all people, know where they are?”

When Mycroft smiled this time, his eyes glittered with something triumphant and smug. “You aren’t as secretive as you think, little brother.”

Sherlock’s eyes tightened. “What is it, then?” he snapped. “What does the Golden Boy Prefect need assistance with?”

Mycroft glanced around them fugitively, as if they weren’t the only students out on the grounds, nearing dusk, on a cold winter’s day. Once he clarified that they were all truly alone, Mycroft handed Sherlock something John couldn’t see. The light was fading fast, but John caught a glimpse of something small and silver as the item exchanged hands.

“There was a break in yesterday. The student files in the office. Nothing was stolen, but this was left on the ground.”

John, who’d leaned in closer to Sherlock to get a better look at the mystery object, glanced from it to Mycroft. In Sherlock’s pale hands (his strong yet delicate hands ...) rested a shiny, new lighter with a faded black skull imprinted on it, as well as a faint engraving of the name Billy. By the looks of it, it wasn’t a cheap one that a student smoker would have.

Sherlock was examining the lighter, muttering inaudibly to himself. Knowing it was useless trying to talk to him whilst he was doing so, John turned to Mycroft instead. 

“So,” he started. “There was a break in.” Mycroft, at this point, nodded. “Nothing was stolen.” Another nod. “And, let me guess, no one saw who?”

“Yes, yes, quite correct, John.”

He blinked, looking between the two brothers. “And … this is all that was left. A lighter.”

Mycroft blinked right back at him, slowly, as if John was acting thicker than usual. “Yes, John. The lighter.”

John rolled his eyes. “Well, are you sure none of the staff dropped it? Or, you know, any of the cleaners?”

Before he had even finished talking, Mycroft was shaking his head. “No, it was certainly the culprit who left it there.” Mycroft tilted his head at John. “But,” he continued, “Yes, I know it sounds rather … odd. The strangest thing, however, is what else they left behind …”

Sherlock’s head whipped up to meet his brothers triumphant expression. “They left something else?”

“Why, yes, yes they did.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother again, and John was struck by how much his eyes looked like his brothers when he did so. John immediately wished to never see that look on Sherlock’s face again.

“And why didn’t you mention that they left something else before?”

“I had to make sure you’d accept the case,” Mycroft answered smugly.

Sherlock straightened. “You want me to solve this case for you in exchange for the secrecy of my smoking habits.”

Mycroft blinked slowly at his brother, taking in the others expression. “Well,” said he eventually, “Yes. I’m terribly busy at the moment and this needs to be taken care of immediately.”

Sherlock looked at John, who looked expectantly back (into those clear, shining blue eyes). They both turned back to Mycroft with resigned expressions. “Of course,” Sherlock mocked, “Anything to help my dear brother.”

With a slight glare at his sibling (and his sarcasm), Mycroft nodded and turned on the spot, leading the way back up to the school. Without making sure they were following him, he called over his shoulder. “I’ll show you what they left,” he said, some of his usual smugness and swagger working its way back into his voice. “Far easier than trying to explain it.”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes at his brothers back while John tried to stifle his laughter at his pompousness.

“And yet another helpless civilian in need of Sherlock Holmes,” John joked under his breath, making Sherlock chuckle. And when John looked at him he swore that the reason his heart skipped a beat was solely because he was excited for the case, not because of the way Sherlock's hair hung over his forehead or the way his eyes reflected the fading sunlight, or the way he instantly recognised the quirk of his plump lips as the John's smile.

“The game,” Sherlock started in response, walking backwards in front of John, his smirk wide and as genuine as ever, eyes as bright as only John could make them and the reason why he put up with boarding school and Mycroft and every single horrible thing in this world, “is on.”

**Author's Note:**

> ten points and my irrevocable friendship if you get the Billy reference also high five for teen!lock anyone??
> 
> also Mycroft is a Prefect because c'mon, let's be real, he totally polishes his badge and wears it with his silk suit pjs and tries to give Sherlock detention over having too many red bulls so he has nothing to do but solve all the cases Mycroft can’t be bothered with bc Mycroft knows Sherlock’s potential and hates seeing him waste his superior intellect on sassing his teachers
> 
> (constructive/weird/funny comments will make me grin like the crazy person I am in public & therefore are greatly appreciated)


End file.
